


accolades

by donniestan



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 14:35:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11083620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donniestan/pseuds/donniestan
Summary: Inspired partly by that interview when Patrick talks about running out of the Grammies, and partly by the writing he did about it in the Believers Never Die booklet.





	accolades

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired partly by that interview when Patrick talks about running out of the Grammies, and partly by the writing he did about it in the Believers Never Die booklet.

Patrick was so excited, he was practically bouncing on the car seat.  
" If Kanye's album doesn't win, man I swear-"

Andy's eyes were half closed, and he looked tired already. He'd been in loads of bands before Fall Out Boy, and Joe suspected that he never really expected it to be more than an EP and some tours in a shitty van. But two albums and several hit singles later, here they all were. At the Grammies. It seemed like nobody thought it was actually real.

" Who are we up against, again? Andy?"  
The singer of the group was still vibrating, buzzing, like a live wire.  
There was silence. Until Pete read out their competitors in a monotone;  
" Sugarland, John Legend, Ciara, Keane."  
Joe could see Patrick mouthing the names, his lips forming a circle on the "O" in "John". The excitement was almost too much to bear.

||

" I mean, it's not like we're even a new band, is it? We've been around since 2001," Pete said cheerfully as they entered.  
Andy yawned, and started to speak, but Patrick stopped him.  
" Is this boring for you?"  
" What?"  
" Dude, you're like, yawning and shit."  
" I got .. zero sleep last night. I was too nervous, see."  
"Ohhhh." Patrick was red in the face. " Sorry, dude." He was too hyped to think reasonably, and Joe really hoped they got interviewed or acknowledged even if they didn't win because he had seen Patrick frowning at himself in the mirror earlier and he was already worried about him. But it was just Joe's thing, wasn't it? Worry about everything and everything.

Suddenly, the half-assed anxiety in Joe's stomach erupted into a storm of butterflies. He said to no one in particular;" We're at the fucking Grammies."  
Pete cheered. 

||

So.

Not great.

They lost. 

But there was still hope for Kanye West to win Album Of The Year, right?

Wrong. 

Patrick was scarlet, and Joe felt uneasy. Scared. Pete looked concerned. He couldn't see Andy, but he had the feeling he was worried too.

The singer stood up, spluttering, angry, and muttered something about " I can't - i don't" and promptly ran out. He would  
just go to the hotel and that would be it. They wouldn't see him until tomorrow.  
Yet Joe had a suspicion that it was more than just Kanye's ( and their ) loss, it was something else that made Patrick furious, whether it was with himself or the people who decided who won the awards. 

||

They watched the rest of the results in silence. It was so surreal, because Elvis Costello was sitting across from the three of them.  
Yet Joe couldn't stop thinking about the expression on Patricks face when he ran out.

The afterparties were.... wild, to say the least. Joe's definition of a party was drinking Red Bull in a parking lot with Pete outside the van at 3am in 2003, not seeing celebrities walk past you like it was nothing.

" Do you think we're gonna have to get used to this? I mean..."  
Andy shrugged.  
" Like, dude..." 

Joe couldn't see Pete, but he eventually returned with two cocktails and a mineral water. Andy took the water and downed most of it in about six seconds.  
"Pete..." Joe asked him what he had been waiting to ask him all night, almost.  
" Patrick... is he okay?"  
" I.... Dude.... he gets into funks sometimes. I mean, we can check up on him in his room when we go back-"  
" When are we gonna go back?"  
Joe checked his watch. It was already ten past eleven. Already?  
" I... I think I'm gonna go back to the hotel. Check on Patrick."  
Pete raised his eyebrows.  
" Can't wait to see him, huh?"  
Joe just shook his head. " I'm worried about him." 

" You do that," Andy said, drinking the rest of his water.  
The guitarist waved them both goodbye( he felt like an ass ) and turned bright red when Pete yelled across the room " GO GET HIM, TROHMAN! GO TO YOUR ONE TRUE LOVE!" before he was attacked by Andy. 

||

In years to come, the journey back to the hotel would be endlessly romanticised, as some kind of heroic pilgrimage across the whole of America in a pimp-my-ride black limo. It was just a taxi ride, though, and thankfully the driver wasn't chatty as he dropped Joe off at the hotel. It certainly wasn't the shitty motels they used to have. They all had their own room, with huge, soft beds and room service. It was nearly midnight, so it wasn't like he was going to get to use it anyway. But still. Room service. 

For some reason, Joe had remembered Patrick's room number, 275, and he knocked gently on the door. It took a few knocks, but eventually he was greeted with the sight of a very disheveled Patrick.  
"Hey, Patrick." he tried.

Patrick blinked. 

" Wait, what? Are the afterparties over already? What time is it?" He asked confusedly.

" it's nearly midnight, and the parties aren't over yet, I just came to check on you."  
Joe stepped into the room, noting that there was a Subway wrapper on the bed, and closed the door gently. 

Patrick's face crumpled.  
"Joe.... I don't need checking up on. I'm fine."  
" Then why are you still in your suit? "  
His ascot was laying forgotten on the floor, so Joe swooped down to pick it up and put it on the bedside table. Evidently, Patrick was still trying to think of a response, but he flopped onto the bed and closed his eyes.

" I- I don't know..." he mumbled. " can't be bothered to take it all off..." 

it would have been pathetic, but Joe felt something when he looked at Patrick lying at an angle on the big bed, his clothes crumpled, the sandwich wrapper from Subway curled in his left fist. It was a rush of something..... love, maybe. Platonic love? Whatever it was, Joe felt it, and he also felt a dire need to get Patrick asleep and rested, out of this state. 

He felt stupid saying it, but he asked anyway.  
" Do you... uh, want me to help you, uh-"

He rummaged around in one of the bags on the floor, finding a worn t-shirt and pyjama shorts.  
Patrick just sighed, he was unresponsive when Joe took off his jacket and shirt, got the t-shirt (avoiding looking at his pale chest),and pulled it over his head. It was like dressing a dead body.  
When it came to his trousers, Patrick wriggled and said" Dude, I can take off my own pants." But he still let Joe do it for him. 

After, Patrick sat up, ran a hand through his hair, and said; " Joe, um, can you stay here tonight?" Seeing Joe's expression he hastily continued" I mean, not in that way-" 

" Yeah, yeah I will."  
Joe was... happy. He could find out what was ailing Patrick, and he was very comfy, from what he remembered of late-night hugs in the van when they were both homesick and tired. 

 

||

He went back to his room to get his bags( they would be leaving in the morning anyway) and found Patrick opening the door with a toothbrush in his mouth.  
Joe was already wearing night clothes as he had changed in his room, so he tucked himself in the bed and waited for Patrick to finish.

It was kinda awkward, in the true sense of the word.

Patrick looked as if he didn't know whether he should be on the opposite side, or cuddled right up next to Joe, who patted the space beside him.  
He wound up with his head on Joe's shoulder, and sighed again.  
" Now, tell me. What's wrong?"  
" It's- stupid. Dude... really stupid.'  
Joe just moved closer to him.  
" Come on. I didn't leave the Grammies for nothing, you know."  
This brought a soft laugh from Patrick, who started to explain.

" I just felt kinda stupid there, y'know. I mean you and Pete and Andy aren't stupid, because you know what you're doing- Joe, you play guitar, Andy plays the drums, and Pete writes such brave lyrics, you all do what you're supposed to do, I guess. But I'm just ... there. And I looked around and I saw all these famous people, I mean Elvis Costello, and I felt like I had done nothing for pop music whatsoever. And-" Patrick paused to climb out of bed, picking up some papers on the other bedside table that Joe had not noticed previously.  
" I've started writing, you see. For- for the next album. And it's nothing much- but-"  
Joe flicked through the papers, messily written chords greeting him. He smiled.  
" Just you wait, Patrick. The next one's going to be even better, I promise.  
And remember when we were teenagers and I said you were going to be a rockstar someday? That's true. And even if you feel stupid, I promise again that you're not. You'll find out your style- your music style, someday. "  
He paused for breath.  
" And.. even if we lost this one, there's going to be more, right? And people like us enough to nominate us. "

||

By then it was way past midnight. Patrick yawned sleepily, and they arranged themselves so that they were facing each other in the dark. All Joe could hear was Patrick's breathing and the distant sounds of the city. 

They were so close that Patrick's stomach was pressed against him, soft. He smiled into Patrick's hair, feeling it tickle his nose. 

Joe will always remember the night of the Grammy Awards; the night that Infinity on High started coming together, just barely.  
He will always remember rushing back to the hotel to find Patrick, feeling that great surge of love for him- a special kind of love, Joe will later discover- and sleeping in that big clean bed.

They ( and Kanye) may have lost that night, but Joe will always feel like he won.


End file.
